i’m in my anti-hustle era

it’s lonely at the top

relationship goals: synchronized weirdness

who needs jenga when you have this

honk if you love sass

cone-cted

“sir, can you turn around?”

it’s not a phase, it’s survival

“hola! can you say ‘leftovers’?”

bzzzz… the sound of relief

unconditional love… with strict conditions

“math isn’t in our policy”

runs on bread

sounds like a bloody disappointment

myspace just rolled over in its grave

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